


wolf like me

by Inkarnadyne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Pack Family, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkarnadyne/pseuds/Inkarnadyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he sings it it's a funeral song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wolf like me

When he sings it it’s a funeral song. He sings it slow, and his voice is rough around the edges, dragging like limbs over gravel.

_got a curse I cannot lift_  
shines when the sunset shifts  
when the moon is round and full  
gonna bust that box  
gonna gut that fish 

It was lighter when she’d sung it, higher and happier, Uncle Peter picking out the notes on the guitar. Sitting around the fire, curled up next to Laura, tossing green twigs into the flames to hear them pop and sizzle his mother’s fingers would find their way into his dark hair and he’d lean back against her knees, eyes shut and listening to the words.

_my heart’s aflame_  
my body’s strained  
but God I like it 

He sings it alone, in the middle of the freezing woods when the words harden to frost in the air. He’d curl his hands to fists but his fingertips are claws, and he sinks them into a log instead, sits in the cold and the dark and remembers. There were promises in those words, in the music and the way they’d all sat together.

_when the moon is round and full_  
gonna teach you tricks that’ll blow  
your mongrel mind 

She’d never been afraid of anything, his mother. Never been afraid of what they were, what they became. She’d taught him everything, taught him the difference (there was none he was the wolf the wolf was him one in the same, never one without the other) taught him how to reign it in, how to shut out everything. The world was so full of life sometimes, so loud and pungent and bright. He’d gotten terrible, almost crippling migraines as a child, when the sun was too bright and he could hear children miles, miles away shouting and laughing and could almost smell the blood singing in their veins, and out of them as they scraped their knees and palms. His mother would find him in his room (ash it’s all ash now and rotted wood and terrible burnt air) and settle her fingertips at the base of his skull, rub gently and sing.

_baby doll I recognize_  
you’re a hideous thing inside  
if ever there were a lucky kind it’s  
you you you 

He wonders sometimes if she can hear him. If everything these humans believe about the afterlife is true, if everything his mother told him about endless fields and warm sun and cool moonlight, eternal and unmarred, is true. He wonders if she knew (she always knew everything, knew the words to say and to swallow, knew him inside and out) that she was going to die in their house, burn to ashes and black, crumbling bone.

_hey hey my playmate_  
let me lay waste to thee  
burn down their hanging tree  
it’s hot here hot here hot here hot here 

They don’t understand why he calls them together. It’s been months since the bites, since he dragged together this stray pack of dogs and made them strong. Everything happened so fast, forced his hand, and before long they’d learned it on their own. They were in control, could run through the moonlight on their own. They don’t understand what it was like to live it. To be raised in it like he was. No one has enough knowledge to call him sentimental when he makes them meet off the moon, but they all wonder why. He doesn’t tell them, couldn’t possibly explain the way it feels like home, the heat and breath of a pack around him again.

_I know it’s strange_  
another way to get to know you  
you’ll never know unless we go  
so let me show you 

After awhile he stops having to remind them, and they gather on their own. Scott and Allison start the fire, and his old pack never had humans, but this one does. Stiles brings marshmallows, and Derek glares at them but by the time Erica shows up with Isaac in tow his tongue is warm and sweet and his fingers are sticky. Boyd shows up a little after Jackson, and Derek can hear the difference in his gait, doesn’t realize why until he sees the outline of the case in the moonlight filtering through the trees.

Boyd’s good, and it surprises him in a way it shouldn’t. These are the things he should know about his pack. These are the things that should be shared. He extends a hand, curls his fingers in, and after a moment Boyd hands the guitar over. And he’s rusty, jesus he’s downright terrible but he gets it after a moment, choppy strums and a few misplaced fingers, but he gets it. He hands the guitar back to Boyd, and the song changes in his fingers. It’s confident again, and he feels it in a way he hasn’t in years.

Erica’s humming along before he knows it, and that, that stirs something inside him. Scott twines his fingers through Allison’s, one foot shifting to the beat. Jackson’s scowling, but no one points out the way his fingers are tapping the beat out onto his thigh.

He starts singing before he knows it, and only Stiles lacks the tact to hide his surprise.

_say say my playmate_  
won’t you lay your hands on me  
mirror my malady  
transfer my tragedy 

And she must have heard him before, one of those days when he thought he was alone, when whiskey was burning at the back of his throat and he couldn’t breathe through the memories of smoke, because suddenly Erica’s singing with him.

_we could jet in a stolen car_  
bet we wouldn’t get too far  
before the transformation takes  
and the bloodlust tanks  
and the crave gets slaked 

And her voice isn’t the same, but it’s enough. His chest aches a little, and then a lot, but he keeps going. Isaac picks it up as well, and Boyd just keeps playing like nothing could make him stop. Scott’s got his eyes closed, head back against Allison’s knees. Stiles is just… staring and Derek has to look away from him, away from the fire and up up.

The moon’s just this side of full, the tiniest thumbnail sliver missing, and they’ll all be together again soon,

_feeding on fever,_  
down on all fours  
show you what all that  
howl is for 

It’s been so long, but he can feel the jagged pieces of himself slipping back together like some mutilated puzzle. It’s the slowest healing he’s ever had to go through, the sort that isn’t physical, but he can feel the scar tissue knitting together, slicking over. 

_got a curse we cannot lift_  
shines when the sunset shifts  
there’s a cure that comes with a kiss  
the bite that binds  
the gift that gives 

It is a gift, given to him before he knew what it was, before he knew any better. Before he knew the ups and downs and the way some people would want it, and most would hate it. But he knows what it is now, knows that he can give it away, that he can help and save. Others. Himself. They’re stronger now, together. And he is, too.

_it’s true  
we’re howling forever_


End file.
